As a child I think I took a grand total of three years worth of piano lessons. I started young, but am unsure of how, when or why formal lessons became a thing of the past. Somehow, I kept playing, despite my inexperience. I attribute it to my insatiable appetite for singing – and the absence of anyone else in my family capable of accompanying my melodies. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, though for me, that way involved a whole lot of fudging the bass clef and playing many an errant note.
Somehow I made it to adulthood with those meager lessons tucked under my belt and, aside from playing the keyboard for a few recordings I made with a friend in college, didn’t really develop my piano-playing ability any further. Then, as many a Mormon missionary in a foreign country can attest, I got to try my hand at every hymn in the book practically every Sunday for 18 months straight because I WAS THE BEST THEY COULD FIND. (Except for the three months I was being trained because I actually had a companion who could play better than me). Those poor Taiwanese people.
When I came home, and later got married, Tim and I were fortunate to have a piano loaned to us by his grandmother until we moved to Boise, so I got to fool around on the keys, but again, not to hone my piano skills but to accompany myself singing my favorite tunes. Still, I considered a piano a fixture in any decent home, so within a year of moving to Boise and purchasing our first home, we found a great little upright on craigslist and have had it ever since.
Those early years of motherhood did not exactly facilitate piano practice. At the first hint of a note, some lovable toddler would find her way into the living room and bang out her version of Ode to Joy. At least one of us was joyful. And it wasn’t as if I were about to take a chance on practicing during naptime at the risk of waking said toddler(s). Heaven knows I needed that time to last as long as humanly possible.
My wish list always included a whole host of piano songbooks from Broadway to Disney (not so much classical – remember the whole part about only wanting to sing along?), most of which I have now acquired, though they for some time collected dust on the shelf, waiting for a more accommodating time. The early lesson books I used to teach my littles beginning piano got much more use, as did the piano, now that the toddlers had become grade-schoolers capable of reading music and practicing to their hearts’ content. Naptime was still sacred so I was relegated to an occasional Sunday evening for a little dabbling in piano fun.
And all of sudden the piano players suddenly moved out of our ward congregation at church. And the most accomplished one who was left behind was called as the choir director. I asked her, “Who the heck are you going to get to accompany the choir?” She gave me a “deer-in-the-headlights” sort of look and mentioned inviting a couple of the youth to do a song or two. I offered my services, to lighten the load, not realizing at all that I had pretty much just signed up to be the “official” accompanist.
To go from playing painfully imperfect accompaniment for oneself on occasion to accompanying a choir in front of a couple hundred people was a steep learning curve, let me tell you. I came home from choir practice every Sunday with a massive headache and a fervent commitment to practice every spare moment I could find. My embarrassment at my inadequacy was palpable, though I plugged through over a year’s worth of accompanying and realized that I had witnessed a miracle. I played pieces I could never have dreamed of playing because I had committed myself to serve and the Lord made up the difference. Boy, did He make up the difference.
That was about five years ago. I still teach my youngest grade-schooler beginning piano, and have passed my older daughters off to experienced teachers. They will inevitably surpass me in skill, owing to my utter lack of technique. Still, I am given opportunities to volunteer in my kids’ schools, most recently by accompanying the choir and guess what, I actually LIKE playing the piano. For the sake of playing the piano, not just so I can sing along. And I’m not too bad either.
Most recently, I accompanied Lily’s 5th/6th grade choir as they sang on the floor of the Idaho State Senate at the Capitol building. Then, I played for Anna’s benefit concert, a bunch of songs from Sound of Music and Into the Woods. I’m learning that nerves will always be part of the package but that perfection is not the goal. While practice is absolutely vital for one so inexperienced, I know that an errant note or two is not going to make or break the song because I am not the main attraction. I just have to make the choir(or soloist, as the case may be) sound good by not royally screwing up.
Lastly, I am grateful that I get to use my talents and see them flourish as I use them in selfless ways. As a young performer, I daresay it was all about the glory. As an old(er) behind-the-scenes accompanist, I get to enjoy the fruits of giving the glory to someone else. Which, counterintuitively, is a really great place to be.
Strangely, though this post was pretty much all about me, THIS girl here was amazing. I got compliments about her being everyone’s “favorite” left and right. She was my favorite, too. Anna performed “On the Steps of the Palace” from Into the Woods.
Getting a tour of the Capitol before the performance.
Soaking in the rays while waiting for the bus ride home from the Capitol.
